Smoke Break
by Scrapbastard
Summary: Two coworkers take a five minute break. Rated T for Tobacco Use


The sun was beginning to lower over Paris. It was a Monday evening. Kids would be getting out of school, parents would be heading home from work. The city skyline would glow like a wildfire for one gorgeous moment. At Agreste Manor, a certain bodyguard lit up a cigarette on the back porch.

"Smoking?" she said as she stepped out onto the porch to join him. She stood next to him, prim and perfect, not a hair out of place. He nodded at her in greeting. "A detestable habit."

He rolled his eyes and smirked. Reaching into his jacket, he produced a pack and offered one to her. She accepted. She took her cigarette holder out of her purse and delicately placed the cigarette in the end of it. He lit it for her, using one of those vintage flip lighters.

"So old fashioned," he grunted, seeing her smoke out of the end of the long, narrow pipe. She exhaled, not looking over at him.

"I don't want ash on my clothes," she commented.

They continued in silence. Neither had very much to say to the other. They saw each other every single day, and had long since settled into a sort of half-hearted acquaintance. They were not quite friends, but they were not unfriendly. They worked well together, but together, all they did was work.

"Shouldn't you be picking Adrien up soon?" Nathalie asked. He checked his watch, a simple silver analog with a leather strap. A gift from the boss on an almost-forgotten birthday. It was four twenty-five. Adrien would be getting out in five minutes.

"I like to be late sometimes," he uttered, looking at the tip of his cigarette as it burned ever closer to the hair on the back of his finger. "Just a bit. Give him some time to socialize, you know, say 'bye' to his friends. The kid has good friends. They care about him."

Nathalie flicked the end of her holder and some of the ash tumbled off the end of her smoke.

"Just make sure Mr. Agreste doesn't find out." She coughed.

"Mm," he agreed, looking over at her. She was still standing there, like a picture out of a magazine. Cigarette holder loosely between two fingers, the other hand on her elbow. She was like a book written in another language. Nice cover image, but you can't read her. You don't know if she's good or bad. You don't know what's inside.

"Been peaceful lately." He sighed, looking straight ahead. He took a long drag and blew it out the side of his mouth. "No villains. Maybe Papillon has been busy?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't know," she quickly replied. Still not a hair out of place. She bit the end of her holder and checked a notification on her phone. She made a small, exhausted sound, and typed a few words on it, then put it away.

"Heard he's got himself some help these days. They've been calling her Mayura," he said, checking his watch again. Four thirty. He'd linger a little longer. Just to the end of this smoke.

"Sounds dangerous," she responded, nonchalantly, displaying great disinterest. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it between his ring and middle finger, waving it around a bit, thinking.

"Yeah. You got plans tonight?" He asked, innocently. He had plans tonight. He'd be standing outside Adrien's room, making sure he practiced piano. Or at least, making sure he set up that MP3 player and pretended.

"I'm on call tonight if Mr. Agreste needs me," she said with a sniffle. Same as every night.

"I see. Gabe's a pretty good boss. Pays well. Doesn't ask too much," he mused, brushing the ash off his jacket. She swallowed to stifle a smile.

"Mr. Agreste is probably a much more agreeable employer than your last few," she joked. Or did she? It was hard to tell.

"Well, he's the kind of boss I can tell people I worked for, let's put it that way," he replied. He didn't want to talk about the past too much. Not with her. Not really with anyone.

"He's an excellent boss. Brag worthy, I'd say," she mused, running away with her thoughts. She adjusted her glasses with the heel of her palm. "And an...interesting man, as well."

He looked at her, cocking an eyebrow. An interesting man, eh? He looked down at his smoke. Almost time to go.

"You know, smoking ain't good for you," he began. She looked at him, confused. He continued, "I mean, it feels good in that moment, but you know, in the long run, it ain't good for you. Just gonna suffer for it. Good thing about being an adult is, you can smoke whenever you want."

She looked away from him. She didn't have anything to contribute to this conversation.

"Bad thing about being an adult is how easy it is," he sighed, putting his cigarette out on the heel of his shoe. "To forget how bad it is for you."

"Your advice is noted. Thank you," Nathalie said. Her voice was devoid of emotion. It was the way she spoke when she was annoyed. "But I trust myself enough to know what I am doing."

"Just don't get burned," he dismissed, tugging at his jacket and pulling his car keys out of his pocket. "Or don't be surprised when you do."

He walked away, leaving behind Nathalie standing like a mannequin on the patio. Smoke break was over.


End file.
